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#derelict
Dissociation saves, in my soul, A shard of grief For the next friend of mine That leaves. Hiding away into fantasy, Pretending when I let mind Slip from the hinges Into the foresight. An Atlas hold on my sky Before the fall, Knowing bracing Won’t save bone from Shards and splinters. Fearful of loneliness And forgottenness, Shaking at honesty Taking my fingertips To write the truth. Fantasy embraces me gladly, As the thought of you two leaving, Takes sanity and peels it Like a scab. Please don’t forget about me, my friends.
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Apr 30, 2021
Apr 30, 2021 at 4:37 PM UTC
Dereliction
Perched against the fluvial in respite from the wind an ex-animate, eolian tumbledown made from bone & decay Deep within its unearthly womb sits the curled elongated shape of the perfect organism
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Jun 2, 2020
Jun 2, 2020 at 3:22 PM UTC
LV-426
_Each day is broken At the zero hour, Splintering like a derelict, On the craggy shoreline of the morn; Flotsam abandoned, To the oceans of yesterday, The beach combed for treasure, To keep for tomorrow._
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Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 3:55 PM UTC
Beachcomber
It sits alone now Derelect, long neglected Empty except the transient shelter Provided to fox and deer And swallows cliff and barn The roof collapsed, the shingles succumbed To a thousand windstorms The south side sinking Drowning in the earth Yet from it's bones you can see How it would have appeared Had a century not unfolded Timber walls hewn by hand Corners locked and dovetailed The craftsman's pride disguised now Behind the ravages of time Reflect upon the family Those pioneers so strong of heart Who built and grew and loved And carved a life beyond existence What hardships felt and conquered What anguish never overcome Can we imagine now From our comfortable perspective The priorities within that fold Of time and circumstance? rc
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Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 8:15 PM UTC
Time and Circumstance
Cut it out, remove the dead tissue from the past. Leave it there on that bed you used to sleep on with her. Burn your fingertips clean of her touch, disappear from the way she remembers you. From the tabs she kept on you. You've tried to sympathize now that you've done your time, but sympathy from a sinner doesn't mean a thing to an angel. You've become something without a future or a past, but hated nonetheless. You've become a derelict, waiting for a storm to tear your old walls down.
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Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 1:30 AM UTC
Derelict
If I am ever lost, Fear not, for I am either Lurking in the shadows where the derelict live, In a suit of fire so the cold and desperate flock toward me. Or on the twilight streets, My skirt made of the first twinkling stars swishing about my knees, Bearing silent witness to the belligerent noise. I may also be in the meadow outside town Flaunting the crown of butterflies that the fairies made for me, As I played with them for as long as the moon hung in the sky. If I am there and you do not know, Fear not For I did not tell you Because I would like to escape the straightjacket of my home.
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Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC
My Summer Wardrobe
**you stand in line for liquid bread with your thin dime newspaper matress you lick your lips a cardboard box will.be your crypt sad forsaken so forlorn your façade is ***** tattered worn the gold was stolen from your vaults passersby see only faults the picket fence around your heath is as broken as your teeth the many choices you have made have sunk you to an early grave you're self-abusive destruction bent *your temple is a TENEMENT*** SoulSurvivor (C) 6/17/2016
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Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
derelict temple
(B) Cacophony vocal cords turned inside out Folding back upon themselves in cruel creases Vibrations resonating in strained harmonies Against the dire fabric of my delirious oblivion (J) I stomp your echoes as they travel through light Unleashing my fangs to sting your roaring mess Frequencies lowered from baseline to internal signal To form a wave at the quilted patch you weaved (B) Disregard all visualized fear firmly penetrating realms Of thickening white-hot spirit a roiling boiling crucible Inflamed fiery fleshly folds of terminated temptations Drawing your musky draught drinking your toxic brew (J) Your sight announces epiphanies of me sinking deeper A manhood you portray is my repatriation, prepare the shovel   Ruin me I plead! Packet and send me down to my casket You can't stitch me, I am twitching, itching, iced in sorrows (B) Clawing at the world, hissing, spitting my deep disdain My every defense mumbling, crumbling into its derelict dust Welcoming my inevitable defeat, my tattered, blood spattered White flag flies, surrendering all to hail the conquering pain. (J) The flag waves in bloodied winds, you wing wading wounds Trying to reach snowy mountainous top, the ascending sledge We fall inverted bumping, exposing our cranium, posing in disgust Hold this hawk talon scratch the earth, its the only hope you hold
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Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 11:32 AM UTC
No. 4 Wanton Melancholia (#one-a-week-series)
I am but willing prey to the wiles of the full grown moon. She guards the night sky... While I patrol these grounds... Grieving over the seconds that have gone too soon. I am a vessel... all emptied and barren. what once was full, now echoes faint the glories of yesteryears. Afloat still, adrift upon the currents... aimless and sullen. I am a ghost... haunting no one but my own. Immortalised... Anchored... to a body of mist and haze... Occupying this space where worthy wind had once blown... I am a beggar offering nothing but my open palms. Hope etched tight into my knackered knuckles and calloused digits. Please... take them in yours... soothe them... grant me your touch, your coveted balm.
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Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
Derelict
--- **i'm here invisible hand retching in your pocket reaching in your face teaching all or nothing blue bottles buzz round my head in circles making me dizzy I pick a posie of dandilions gone to seed I foray about looking for the shiniest diamonds in aluminum cans the brass ring must certainly be tarnished gold the forge bellows that is my chest heaves in another cough cooling my tounge the empty wind that echos ashes spent embers collect in the cracks of the abyss my bones which were disjointed oh so slowly reassemble instantly but someone at the factory didn't read the destructions my legs are arms my hands feet i lie under a cold sky in july oh don't cry when i die no whitened seplechur my inheritance my epitaph nonsense a palm tree o'r my grave** soulsurvivor (C) 6/13/2015
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Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
derelict